Elsie turned away, leaving the side gate open, that Jack might not feel himself shut out from them entirely now. Truly he was a curious lad, she thought, and if he had led Tom into mischief, he must care for him, or he would not wait and watch with such patience to quell every harsh-sound, lest he should be disturbed.
Not until dusk, when hawkers had given up the business of the day, and organ men had shouldered their instruments and were plodding homeward, did Jack resign his self-imposed task and go home.
At six o'clock the next morning, Elsie unbolted the street door, and there stood Jack close at hand. "Them milkmen will begin their noise soon," he said, in explanation of his early visit. "How is he now, Miss Elsie?" he asked anxiously.
"Still asleep, and mother feels sure the danger is almost over," said Elsie, cheerfully.
In the course of that day, Tom opened his eyes, and recognised his mother for the first time since he had been ill.
"My boy! My darling!" she said, kissing him tenderly.
"Oh, mother!" he gasped.
"You must not try to talk, my dear. Drink this, and we will make you comfortable." And while she raised him in her arms, and gave him what the doctor had left for him to take, Mrs. May shook up his pillows, and smoothed the bed, so that he might go to sleep again comfortably.
"Have I been asleep long?" asked Tom, in a feeble whisper.
"A few hours, dear," said his mother.